


A King's Pleasure

by bythunder



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, King and Queen in the North, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-03-13 13:10:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13571238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bythunder/pseuds/bythunder
Summary: “Why do they call it a pleasure barge?” Jon asks and Sansa answers.





	A King's Pleasure

“That was, ah…”

“Pleasurable?” Sansa purred, kissing her way up his bare torso. She lingered over every scar as if she could kiss away his past, heal his trauma with her lips and her tongue. He would do often do the same for her. There were scars inside he still couldn’t reach, but by gods, did he try. But today’s tryst wasn’t about healing, just pure desire. Titles left on shore, here they weren’t King and Queen, not even Husband and Wife, only Man and Woman. Nothing between them but love and lust and need. And yes, pleasure.

 

 

_“Why do they call it a pleasure barge?” Jon asked naïvely as the ship set out into the harbor. In his experience, sailing was hardly a pleasurable experience. Hardly any better than a wheelhouse or a carriage. It was utilitarian, simple transportation, and that was assuming the seas were smooth. And when they were rough, well, there was nothing pleasing about that. But Lord Manderly had gifted the ship to Jon, trying to curry favor with the King in the North. The Lord of White Harbor had been angling for the title of Master of Ships since Robb’s reign, and now that Jon was finally assembling a proper small council, he’d come sniffing again. Unfortunately, he couldn’t weasel his way into Jon’s good graces with a granddaughter for him to wed, but that didn’t stop him from attempting to sway the King with a fleet of longships and his own private pleasure barge, named after his queen, Sweet Sansa._

_“Why, my king, you don’t know?” His wife hooked his arm in hers. He expected her to wax poetic about the beauty of the bay, the smell of the sea, to call over the singer to entertain them with romantic tales of Florian and Jonquil, or perhaps Queen Naerys and Aemon the Dragonknight. Instead, she tugged him below decks, to the royal cabin that had been generously outfitted for their use. Long, wide windows that afforded them generous views of the sea, a mahogany desk should any royal business arise, a plush feather bed wider than he was tall, piled high with silk pillows and the softest furs. But not a single thing in this room mattered half as much as the sight of his queen, striped down to her skin, her eager hands reaching to do the same to him._

“Aye, pleasurable.” He kissed her deeply before she settled into the crook of his arm with a contented sigh. Truthfully, this was about as satisfying as the act itself. Sansa’s warm body fitted perfectly against his as if they were made for each other. He never slept half so well when she wasn’t by his side. But beyond the physical comfort, he loved to see her walls come down. She was a charming queen, gracious and kind to her people, but Jon knew her false smiles and her carefully chosen words to placate their bannermen. In their private moments, there was nothing false about her. Only for him did Sansa show her true self and Jon treasured that more than anything.

“If the Crown Prince is conceived on the boat Lord Manderly gave you, you’ll have no choice but to name him to your council,” Sansa jested.

“Do you really think—” Jon placed his hand on the flat of her belly. They’d been trying since the wedding night, more than six moons ago, but Sansa hasn’t missed a course yet. The lords of the North and the Riverlands were anxious for the King to produce an heir, but more than that, Jon just wanted to finally start their family. He dreamed of it often, little boys with fire in their hair, Robb and Ned and Benjen, and little brown-haired princesses, Arya and Lyanna, even a Catelyn for Sansa. Sansa would be the most beautiful mother and Jon would try to prove himself a worthy father every day. But first, they needed just one seed to take root.

Sansa laughed and pulled his hand off her stomach. “It’s too early to tell, Jon. You know that.”

“I know… I just— I want this for us.”

“I want it too. And it will happen. Soon. Have faith.” She brought his hand to her lips and kissed his knuckles. “In the meanwhile, we can always enjoy each other.”

 

 

Jon groaned happily as his wife rolled on top of him, and as she straddled his hips, he thought to himself,  _"Aye, the pleasure barge is an aptly named ship."_


End file.
